Whether You Want It or Not
by TempusNoKitsune
Summary: The two golden boys, defined by their pride and constant disagreements with each other, but also by their loving tendencies for one another,had to fight to keep the very things that define them.Looking back,the internal struggles of the two seem to weigh just as heavily as the external.A struggle through pain and uncertainty will ultimately fill the empty spaces HIATUSUntilFinish
1. Chapter 1

Letting out a soft sigh he moved forward, his loafers a shade darker than they were this morning from the rain. Each step he took made a faint squelching sound, and his feet hit the ground with a squish. He winced and tried not to think about his once pristine loafers becoming a slimey article for his feet. Green eyes shone forward through the rain, as though it was not even there. Being as used to it as he was it might as well not have been, though his wet clothing did agitate him a bit.

He shook out his umbrella, and let it lean against worn brickwork as he searched his pockets for his key. A faint jingle alerted him of the gold piece of metal's whereabouts. He pushed in the old oak door, and set his briefcase on a small table, toeing off his soggy wet shoes, and leaving them next to the door. He shrugged off his jacket and hung it up, hoping that the silky fabric from the inside of the coat would not be damaged from the rain.

To many his life would seem boring. Day after day, getting up early and going to work, then sloshing home in the rain only to resume work and read before heading off to bed, or simply nodding off in the process. But, it wasn't really all that boring. Actually, he would call his life quite a hectic thing. Flitting in and out of meeting rooms all day, and nearly avoiding killing, and getting killed by his "acquaintances".

His responsibilities outweighed many, though he may try to be humble about it he often found that he would end up complaining about it to himself. It was nice to be able to leave work, and go back to his quiet, quaint little victorian home. His home was a safe haven that offered him peace and quiet. A place to actually complete work, and to relax. And despite popular belief he did actually watch a bit of television. Starting with Doctor who, and Sherlock, and sometimes even ending with some kind of anime, or American TV show like House.

He wasn't completely old fashioned, though he appeared so to others. Outside of work he would often wear t-shirts and skinny jeans. Once again it was something that, despite popular belief, he did. He did change with the rest of the world, like most people, and his small figure often allowed the styles of this time to suit him, though he never would be able to wear boy shorts, as they completely swallowed him up.

There were certainly upsides, and downsides to being his size. He was about 160" or 5'3, and he was fairly small around the waist...and everywhere else. He was often made fun of for his size, but he tended to have the advantage in fights, spying, and he was fairly good at gymnastics, and dancing. Because of his small size it was often hard to find pants that were the right size, which led to his often wearing boots, or high top trainers.

He was also often made fun of for his rather...dark eyebrows. In his opinion they really weren't all that bad, but apparently they stuck out amongst his emerald eyes, and golden blonde hair. Despite his outward flaws, and his temper, and "grumpiness", many people complimented his figure, which he tried his best to ignore, and his voice. Frequently, outside of his country, he found himself receiving compliments on his "accent", and smooth tone.

A small smile came to his face as his scottish fold, Aldwin, weaved himself in between his legs. Quite a few people questioned the naming of his cat, but he thought that it was quite a fitting name as in old english it means an old, wise friend. He clicked his tongue, and lead his hand behind himself, basically telling Aldwin to follow him.

He let out a sigh and sat down on a crimson couch, the scottish fold jumping up, and making a bed of his lap. Often he had actually thought of changing the cat's name since he hardly actually called him Aldwin, rather settling for Win, which often led to him accidently calling the cat Winston…

Shaking his head he turned on the TV, and switched it over to netflix where he searched for Doctor Who season 5. He had been watching all of the newer seasons over, and had only barely gotten over the pain of losing the 10th doctor, David Tennant. He found his episode and pressed play, settling back into the couch, and rubbing Win's ears.

He nearly fell asleep towards the end of the episode, and reprimanded himself for almost nodding off during such an important episode. He blinked a few times to clear his slightly blurry vision, and decided that this would be the opportune time to make some tea.

He gently slid Aldwin off of his lap, and got up, walking over to his small yet open kitchen. He inhaled, breathing in the soft ginger cinnamon scent that lingered in the room. It smelled sweet...like home. His lips twitched up into a smile as he took out some Earl Grey tea. It may be a bit stereotypical, but don't blame him for liking rich, and strong flavours. He set his kettle on a burner, and walked over to his big cupboard. It was a small secret of his that he had quite the sweet tooth. He really couldn't help his attraction to most any kind of sweet. He pulled out a small jar of biscuits, and placed a couple on the edge of his saucer.

Looking up and down a small red box caught his eye. He looked around as if there was someone there that was going to catch him, and quickly pulled out the box. He was acting so childish in that moment as he snuck a piece of chocolate, what would others think if they saw him acting like this. Surely they would laugh. Though, some would just find it cute. A faint blush came to his cheeks, as he put the chocolates back, and closed the door. Yes, some would find it cute...like…His kettle whistled bringing him out of his thoughts.

He walked back over to the stove, and poured the boiling water into his tea pot, letting the leaves steep. But, that only gave him time to think about more things that he really didn't want to be thinking about. He leaned forward, and rested his forehead on the bottom of his cool cabinets. _Don't think about them, don't think about that, don't think about him. I'm supposed to be mad at him. Why can't I stay mad at him! _

Of course, he knew exactly why he couldn't, but he chose to ignore that, and went ahead and poured himself some slightly steeped tea. He made his way back to the living room area quickly, and sat down, Win following him.

"Just don't think about it, it's not that bloody hard! You had another fight so what!? …And you're talking to yourself...brilliant…" He muttered.

"Mraaw" Aldwin jumped up on the couch, seeking attention.

"Right, right. You master could go completely insane for all you care, as long as you get attention right?" He scratched behind the fold's small orange ears.

"Mraaaaaa"

He looked up just in time to get a face full of fur. Reaching up, he pried the cream coloured ball of fluff off of his face.

"Hero?"

The fluffy mixed breed cat, though his owner insisted he was a maine coon, looking up at him with bright blue eyes. He rolled his own eyes, and ran his hand down the cats back.

"What are you doing here?"

Hero just purred and made himself at home on his lap, which seemed to irk Aldwin just a bit.

"He's here with me." A smooth accented voice called out as he walked into the room. Emerald met sky blue.

"Ah...well..."

"Come on." The other male walked closer.

He shot a glare into those bright blue eyes.

"It was just a little fight. We have those all the time right?" The honey blond gave him a small smile. "It's in our blood. Pride. It makes us fight with each other.

The other sat down next to him, but he turned away.

The male sighed. "Everyone fights, because no one's perfect…"

"Stop being…"deep" for the lack of a better word." He turned slightly. "I'm trying to be mad at you."

The other blond grinned. "And how is that working out for you?"

"Not all that well…" He mumbled.

"Well good, because I really wanted to spend some time with you this week."

He looked away again, hoping to brush off some of his embarrassment. He focused on a painting featuring a forest, and a small red fox wandering to the edge of a cliff.

"Arthur?"

"Hm?"

"I'm sorry."

Well that got his attention. Looking back into those sky blue eyes with his own slightly surprised ones.

"Excuse me?"

He smiled slightly. "You heard me. I said that I was sorry. You know why?"

He gave the other a funny look. "Because you've gone absolutely bonkers?"

The honey blonde laughed. "No." He tilted his head just a bit, a small smile on his tanned face.

He shrugged at the other nonchalantly, and was rewarded with a small huff.

The other, regaining his focus rather quickly for the kind of person he was, shook his head, and regained his smile.

"Because I love you."

No matter how many times he heard the other say that he could never get over it. He could never get over the fact that _he_, of all people, was saying it, and that it was being said to him. Those three little words that seemed to hold the world and more. Now, he didn't necessarily believe in love itself, but there was something aboutsomeone else saying it to him that he just couldn't help but like.

His cheeks dusted a faint pink, and he bit his lips for a moment before realising how it may have looked to the other, and releasing his lip. And then his boyfriend of 73 years leaned over and kissed him.

...

He sighed. Why would I let him do that? He always does that. He always gets the better of me. It's like his attitude is contagious, God knows his smile is. Maybe it's because of his bright attitude. Perhaps it rubbed off on me. Or maybe it's just his eyes. The way that they shine when he really means something. The bright blue that they turn when he's excited or happy. The dark blue that they turn when he is serious. The searing blue they turn when he is mad, or the faded blue they turn when he is sad. Maybe it's his smile, which is so very contagious. His gleaming teeth, and dimples. A grin stretching across his face, one that lights up a room, or a small sincere smile that seems to put a halo around his face.

Of course I know what it really is. His lips twitched up at the sides, in a small smile. He slowly opened his eyes, connecting them with a bright sky blue. He was smiling right back. Of course he knew. He had known since the boy was just starting out. He had known since that fateful day he had stood on a ship back to his homeland, staring at what was no longer his. Oh he had known. He had desperately hoped for it to be something else, but hoping can only do so much. It was so small then, but it had certainly grown with time, just as the boy had done. It hit him with full force during one war. A war scarring to the world in many different ways.

* * *

_Hello readers~_

_This is just a little thing that I started that may have begun to spiral a bit. _

_Anyway, this story explores the past individually from both Arthur, and Alfred's point of view. Most of it will take part in their heads._

_I hope you enjoyed the start, and will (hopefully) continue to enjoy the story!_


	2. Chapter 2

It was muddy and dark, but then again what days weren't now? It seemed that the world as a whole was in turmoil. Simply noted, though when one was in as much pain as he was it was quite hard to keep all his thoughts straight. What he was hanging onto at the moment was moving one foot in front of the other. Pulling his boots out of the mud with each step. Avoiding bodies in the narrow trenches. Covering his head when a shell came too close. It was true, the words that made it back home. War was hell.

There was no way to escape. The war even pushed into the heart of England. He grit his teeth, and trudged forward, just pushing his feet through the mud, focusing more now on not passing out. He blinked over and over again, desperate to unfog his site. The dull light turned yellow as he continued to push forward, looking up every now and then in order to fire a shot off into the enemy's direction, or growl out an order through his clenched teeth.

His throat burned, and his hand flew up to his mouth. He shook his head slightly, and pushed himself even harder. Now was not the time for his body to give in, not even slightly. He quickened his pace, struggling through the thick mud, and rain. If his body had to give in he couldn't be in front of his men.

"Kirkland!"

He grit his teeth, and lifted his head up, his eyes locking on a familiar blue. He reached out his hand, and grabbed the others, allowing the man to pull him up, and into a small tent. He took in a sharp breath, and pulled the flap to the tent closed, and let go. He fell to his knees in a coughing fit. He screwed his eyes shut as he struggled to take in air between coughs. His body started to tremble, his arms barely keeping his face from smashing into the ground. His eyes watered, and blood splattered on the ground.

He grit his teeth, and a warm hand rested softly on his back. He gave a few more shuddering choughs before nearly collapsing. The hand on his back moved around, encircling his middle. He winced, but made no struggle, as he really didn't have energy to. The other pulled him up to his feet, and helped him over to a cot on the far side of the tent.

"You didn't….have to do that…I'll be fine in a few minutes…"

"Britain...England...you and I both know that that's a lie."

He looked up. "It…" He rubbed the back of his and across his mouth, getting rid of the blood that clung to his lips. "No." He looked at the ground. "No. I'm strong damn you! I'm going to be just fine you idiot! J-Just FINE!"

"Arthur. I didn't say that you weren't strong. I know that you are, but...we both know. No." He gave Arthur a look as his mouth opened with a counter. "We both know that you are not at your best. You're hurt, and not showing it is only going to make it worse."

He shook his head.

"Fine. You don't want me to tell you what you need. I suppose you don't want me to help you either?"

He looked up, his green eyes dulled by pain. The pain of his people. The pain of his land. The pain of the war.

"...Arthur, I'm here to help, and that's what I'm gonna do whether you want it or not." The blonde sighed, his blue eyes reaching out to the other, then he turned and walked away.

"Thank you." It was hardly above a whisper, his eyes pinned to the others back as the boy faltered on his way out, then he continued as if he hadn't done so at all, stopping for a moment at the opening.

"You're welcome."

* * *

_I know that this chapter is really short, sorry! _

_The next will be back up to par._

_Hope you enjoyed this chapter~_


	3. Chapter 3

He started running. He had to get down to the bunkers, he might not have been "human", but he knew that he wouldn't be able to survive something like this outside. He would be lucky if he survived in a bunker. The sirens around him wailed, and he pushed harder. London was dark, every light was out, and there was hardly anyone around save for a few soldiers rushing everyone into secure buildings.

He knew that he should have been one of the first people into a secure area, but he couldn't do that when his people are scattered out in the city, frightened, and frazzled. He couldn't help but feel strongly to help them. It was in his nature, and they were in his head, he did every thing that he could to assure that as much of them as he could get before it was too late, were ushered into a safe place. However, he seemed to have outstayed his welcome in the open, and now his heart beat was in his ears, pounding as loud as London's sirens.

A bunker was nearby. He knew it, he could even see the last soldier, pushing the last of the people into the highly protected area. The only question that crossed his mind at that moment was, _can I make it? _But, the world, or rather the Germans, happened to be turned against him, and a high pitched whine filled the air. And london exploded.

He fell to his knees, a searing pain attacking his heart. Someone was blowing up his core, and he could do nothing but try his best to get under cover. It was in that moment that he felt so utterly useless. So weak that he could do nothing but hide from his enemies. The sun never sets on the British Empire, but every light in London was off.

Ash rained from the skies as a chorus of whines filled the air. His once golden blonde hair now coloring grey with the soot, and the cuts on his skin burning from the rubble that was raining down on him. He couldn't focus, curling up on himself as the pain in his chest simply became too much. He couldn't stop the spasms that were wracking his body, and he couldn't stop the blood and tears. It burned, it stung, _it killed._

"...ur….thur...Arthur! ARTHUR!"

Knees fell beside his head, khaki pants turning black. Strong arms pushed their way under him, and lifted him up. He was helpless to do anything other than give into the person shielding him, and carrying him away. His vision was blurred, and through the pain he vaguely registered that this person was carrying him into shelter. Nice man...good….

There was one particularly large stab of pain, and he arched up in the others arms, gritting his teeth together in pain, and a long moan making it out of his mouth. His chest tightened, and there was a particularly familiar metallic taste at the back of his throat. He put up a fight, refusing to close his eyes, refusing to give in, to let everything go dark. He was strong dammit! He _would _make it through this. He had to.

However, despite his struggles, and the now worried questions, and exclamations of the person carrying him, everything became too much. He was strong, very strong indeed, but even the strongest person in the world couldn't handle so much pain. He could feel the flesh covering his heart boiling, and blood bubbling up in his throat. So much. There was so much pain, and he had tried so hard. It was time for a kip. A nap, just a small one. Perhaps the pain would stop then, if he just closed his eyes.

The others frantic exclamations heightened in volume, but his ears and head felt fuzzy. His eyes were blurry, and his eyelids fluttered between closed, and opened._That...I need...I need to...what?...what do I...so tired...so… _His eyes closed, and he went limp in the others arms, blood making its way out of the corner of his mouth.

* * *

_Updating, there we go._

_I hope you all enjoy this chapter_

_~Castor_


	4. Chapter 4

_Oh God Oh God Oh God! No! Nonononono! He can't be...no…not now, please! _The honey blond looked around frantically for a still opened shelter, trying his best to push down his thoughts and feelings, and find a place where both he and his...friend, would be safe. However, this far into an attack it was very unlikely that anything would actually be opened up anymore. _Duly noted. I'll just have to find somewhere else then. _

There was something easier said than done. Of course there were plenty of buildings around, but were they actually safe? Most likely not, but given the circumstances it would probably be for the best if he picked one out anyway, inside a slightly dangerous place was much better than out in the open. Besides the bombs didn't seem to be landing all that near the area that they were in, however, he knew just as well as anyone else that the bombs weren't all that easy to aim. Neither were a lot of thing that they used really, most things were just fired rapidly and at random, though there were some good marksmen, and you didn't even need one of those to make a machine gun effective.

He shook his head, and ducked into a rather large stone building, dubbing it safe enough for the time being. He gently set down the smaller man, leaning him up against one of the large walls. _He looks like shit, but he has been through hell,_ Watched the skies, which at the moment were raining bombs over London. _and it looks like he's making another trip there right now. _He pulled the door shut, and turned his attention back to the Briton. He pulled his sleeve up over the palm of his hand, and used it to gently dab the blood away from the others face. _Weakness doesn't suit you. It never has. But right now you are weak, yet on the outside you remain strong._ His lips curved up in a small smile, before dropping again. _Just like the rest of us._

He knew that there was nothing that he could do at the moment for the British nation, except for stay with him, so that's exactly what he did. He moved over so that he was resting right next to the other man, and looked down at his lap. _I'm not sure how long this is gonna last, but I'm not going to leave him alone, especially not like this. _He allowed his mind to wander a bit. He allowed it to wander to the furthest edges of the Earth, and back around again. He thought over everything, and nothing, coming simply to the conclusion that the world was faulty, filled with billions of people who were more alike than they would ever know, but also filled with hate, megalomaniacs, and pain. So much pain. Who would have thought that there could be so much pain in a little place, and who would have thought that others could enjoy it?

From the beginning of time, when the very first nation showed it's face. An infant quickly corrupted by it's people. An infant setting the ways of the world. Then there was land, so much land, torn apart by ideals, graces, and hate. Then there were many infants, many children of mother earth, who grew up with this suffering, grew accustomed to it, and welcomed it. These were the nations, powerful or not, corrupted from the very first day that they appeared. Many were mistreated, other treated like gods. It was ridiculous. _I'm ridiculous. I need to stop thinking so much._

He shook his thoughts off, and his head snapped to the side as a small groan came from the limp figure beside him. "Arthur?"

The figure shifted slightly, coughing as some blood got caught in it's throat. He let out a small sigh, and put one arm around the others waist, keeping him propped up, while his other hand went to dab the new blood away. Emerald eyes slowly opened to the dim lighting, the others pale face scrunching up in pain. He seemed to be trying to hold back some more blood. Lot of good that would do, it's probably just clog up his throat.

"Arthur breathe." He hit the others back lightly, for him anyway. Forcing the other to cough up the blood. The other doubled forward, letting the rest of the blood flow out of his mouth before pulling in air desperately. He shook his head, and rubbed the others back. "Breathe, just breathe."

"That's….that's…"

"Sh. Don't even try to talk right now. All you should be doing is breathing. You can start talking once those explosions stop outside."

The others face twisted in pain, and he forcefully held the other up in a sitting position to regulate his air flow, not letting the struggling Briton curl in on himself. "You're doing fine, just fine. Now breathe, and cope. Breathe and cope."

He pulled the other man closer, letting the other lean against him to take some of the strain away. He kept his mind on the situation, but tried not to think about what could happen to the man beside him, instead deciding that the other was not going to die, not while he was there. Not while he had something to say about it. Besides he had been through this before, this one was just a bad one, he'd make it through this, yeah, he would.

* * *

_Another chapter up._

_I hope you guys are liking it so far (and that it's not completely horrible)._

_~Castor_


	5. Chapter 5

He squirmed a bit against the others side, trying to block out the pain. His efforts were useless. There was no way that the could push back that much pain, the only way to get rid of it would be to wait it out, but bloody hell! He wished that those damn krauts would hurry up and finish their air assault, and leave him alone. _How much longer!?_

He squirmed more, his waist pressing against the others hand almost painfully. He let out a small whimper, and twisted and turned in the others grasp. His chest was searing, burning, piercing pains attacked his heart. He had gone through a lot of things in his life. He had had a lot of pain, but this was one of the worst things that he had ever felt, he'd go as far to say it was a little bit worse than the plague. And that…that was a bad time.

"Ngh…." He arched forwards a bit, and bit down on his bottom lip, drawing blood.

"Arthur, breathe."

_I AM BLOODY BREATHING YOU TWAT! I WILL KILL YOU,_ "Ah!...guh…" _once Germany stops trying to kill me…_

Blood dribbled down his chin from the corner of his mouth, his eyes closed tightly. Anyone could tell you that being attacked had the potential to be particularly painful. At the moment he could scream it, so that his words filled the whole of London, but it seemed that his voice was failing him, as it only seemed able to let out pitiful little noises. Moans, and groans of pain.

He let his mouth fall open, and leaned all of his weight on the others side. His eyes wandered over the ceiling of the building, following the different moldings, and false stone painting. His eyes followed each hand done crack, letting himself get lost, letting his mind go fuzzy and dull in an attempt to dull out the pain. But it wasn't all that long until the explosions outside weaned down, perhaps half an hour, or was it an hour and a half?

He let his eyes trail back down until he was looking forward. He was still in pain, as was only natural considering that parts of London, his heart, were probably now in shambles. Of course he was still in pain, but at least it was over now. At least it had stopped. Now the ache, the pain, seemed dull compare to how it had been when he was being struck over, and over, and over...and over….and over….and…

"Al...Alfred….?"

"Yes?"

"How….why…"

"Sh. It doesn't matter."

"Like hell," He went into a short coughing fit. "...it doesn't matter. Why?"

"We checked up. Trying to find you. Each place said that they hadn't seen you, so I started to get worried. They said that it was fine, that you had probably made it to a shelter with no means of contact, but I couldn't take the chance that you hadn't gotten somewhere." The boys eyes were fixed ahead. "So, I went out looking for you, and thank God I did...thank God…" His voice dropped to a whisper. "I could have lost you."

His eyes fell. "I'm sorry…"

"Don't apologise. Not now….at least not yet…"

He looked back over at the boy. "What?"

"Not yet. You can apologize once this is all over. Once I'm not afraid that you're going to get hurt anymore, then you can apologize."

He opened his mouth, then let it close again. He wasn't really sure what to say to that. Did he really worry the boy that much? Did Alfred really care for him? It was a...different thought to say the least. Of course it had crossed his mind a few times before, but when chaos was running a muck around you you hardly had time to stop and think about how anything you did would affect the people around you.

"So what are we going to do?"

"Well, _you're _going to rest a bit, because I highly doubt that you can even stand up right now, and _I'm _going to try to establish some kind of contact with our base." Alfred answered, pulling a small black box, which was most likely some sort of American radio.

He let out a small sigh, but didn't argue. Shifting so that his weight was no longer on the boy, but on the stone wall behind his back. The boy slowly pushed himself to a standing position, and looked back down at him. Sky blue eyes scanned up and down his body, and he made to shift uncomfortably, but grimaced as pain shot up his back. Alfred bent down slightly so that their eyes locked.

"Are you sure you'll be alright if I step out for a bit?"

"Yes Alfred. I'll be just fine, I've dealt with this before."

The boy nodded, but gave him a disbelieving glance before he stood up.

"Don't doubt me Alfred. I've been through more than you'll ever know, and I've been through it alone."

Alfred just nodded again before taking his leave, though he could have sworn he heard a low, "Well, not anymore." from the other before he left the room. Not anymore. What exactly did that mean? He closed his eyes for a moment. Perhaps he had just imagined that the words had been said, it was a logical explanation, he had just been through hell, so a little bit of hallucination wouldn't be a strange thing. But, why would he imagine that. Why those words over all others? What did his mind want to say?

No, the boy probably did say it, which only made him feel more confused. Why would he say that? Perhaps he wasn't meant to hear them. That was the most likely answer, seeing as they were said while facing away from him, and in such a quiet tone as well. Yes, maybe he shouldn't thing about them, because he wasn't meant to hear them at all, but oh that made it all that much more tempting to think about them.

He let out a small sigh, and tried to rewind the whole moment in his head. I'll be fine here alone. He didn't believe me. I've been through hell before, but I've been through it alone. Not anymore...not anymore...you won't go through it alone, not anymore. _Not yet. You can apologize once this is all over. Once I'm not afraid that you're going to get hurt anymore. I could have lost you. I started to get worried. Arthur, I'm here to help, and that's what I'm gonna do whether you want it or not._

His hands flew up to his head, clutching it in his hands, his teeth grit together. All of those things, he said all of those things...why would he say all of those things!? Why am I remembering all of that? Why does it matter? Then a thought that he very much did not want to have in his head popped up.

Perhaps my heart knows something my head doesn't...and perhaps his head knows what his heart feels, but I am the one who is completely oblvious. Perhaps he tries to push it away, but it is so hard, especially with me at my weakest. Perhaps I weaken him, and perhaps…perhaps he weakens me…

No...no! Bad Arthur...don't think like that! This is war, and it is certainly no time to realize that you're in love! ….Oh shite...I'm in….NO! NONONONONONONONONONO! I AM NOT! I AM _NOT _IN LOVE! AH!

He pulled in a deep breath. One, you are a fully grown man, get a grip. Your twenty third birthday is coming up soon, and you've been alive far too long to be feeling this way. Two, even if there was even the slightest chance that you felt something for Alfred, and he for you, this is certainly not the time to figure it out. Three...okay, there really is no three, and who exactly was he trying to fool, being over 10,000 years old really didn't do anything for the idea of love. He had never been a social person, e had always been closed off, and cold. He had never dated, as in really actually taking part in an I love you kind of relationship.

No, if he was being completely honest it was usually a kind of mutual friend relationship, or a they loved him, and he ran out of people to verbally abuse, and needed someone to call an idiot relationship. That made him sound like a terrible person, it really did, but he couldn't really help that he wasn't really capable of feeling the kind of love one feels for a partner. Of course he was perfectly capable of harboring a family like love, that slowly bent and twisted as one grew older until he was confused beyond belief, and was left alone in a large stone building along with some frightening thoughts that had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he was at war with a country that would do anything to end him…

Damn.

"Arthur, are you alright?" A rough hand landed on one of his wrists, another going to rub at his back.

He tilted his head up slightly to see concerned blue eyes on an American who just happened to be kneeling beside him, and rubbing his back soothingly. He felt his cheeks heat up, and quickly his face in his hands. "I...I'm…" _going through a lot right now, not including the fact that I feel like I was just run over by several tanks, and I'd really like it if you could just sit here and talk with me for a bit about everything, and let me get lost in your eyes, so I can remember what it's actually like to see the sky. And maybe you could smile, so that I can remember what it's like to be free. Maybe you could be my anchor, maybe you could be my plane. Maybe you could be my everything for just one second so I can remember what it's actually like to be living, and not just be...not...just….be...me… _"...fine."

"You sure?"

_No, I'm not, because I'm not anywhere near fine. _"Yes, I'm sure you idiot."

A small smile came to the others face. "Alright, good. So, I established contact with a bunker not all that far from here, but there's nothing that they can really do to get us back to base, because all of their equipment is kinda gone. So, overall I didn't really find anyone who could help us, but they did remind me were the base is, so I guess we could walk, if you're up to it, but it's probably not the best idea."

"Well, we could walk, but we should wait until we have the all clear."

"Yeah but, do you think you could actually walk that far?"

"Well where are we?"

"About four or five miles from the base."

_Hm. _"That's not really that bad, I should be able to make it."

"You sure?"

"Don't question me."

"But…" Alfred shook his head. "Fine, lets go then."

He gave a small nod, and watched as the boy quickly stood up and offered him a hand, although that offering him a hand was a bit more like shoving it in his face. He looked up at the others face, then back to his hand, before pushing himself up to his feet. The boy let out a sigh and retracted the hand as he shot him a look that quite basically said, I'm-the-bloody-United-Kingdom-and-I-don't-need-your-help. And he didn't...wouldn't...probably should have taken it…

* * *

_Oh hey, look at that chapter above, it's actually been put up._

_I hope you liked it, and reviews would be appreciated._

_Castor~_


	6. Chapter 6

His knees nearly gave out the first few steps he took, not that he would admit that afterwards. However, now wasn't the time to be prideful, there was no way that he was going to get to that base, no matter how close it was. But, there was no way in hell that he was going to ask Alfred for help. Because of all people it had to be Alfred here with him. Alfred, who made him so incredibly self conscious that no matter the fact that he could hardly stand, he couldn't ask for help for fear of seeming to be something that he was not.

So, despite the waves of shock and chills currently running down his back, he would have to use his shaky legs to get him to the base. One foot after the other, it shouldn't be too hard...And..._Bloody hell, shite, bullocks, ow_! Searing pain shot up his legs with each step, like sharp poles were being pushed from the soles of his feet, up. And yet, one foot in front of the other. The quality of stubbornness that resided within him was unparalleled he was sure.

It was torture. Abit self inflicted at this point, but it was torture none the less. His teeth sunk deeply into his tongue as he fought not only against the pain, but against showing it to Alfred, who was giving him a look like his efforts may be for naught. However, biting one's tongue is not really an effective way to do anything, and was just emitting something of a sour taste which added one unpleasant thing on top of the other.

However, refusal to complete the task at hand was something that would not be happening. Refusal may have been a common ground for him, but never in the context of giving up. He just pushed forward. Yes, it hurt like hell, and yes this was going to be one hell of a long walk, but all of that be damned. He was going to make it to that base on his own if it killed him, no matter the look that Alfred gave him.

And was that his ankle that just made that alarming cracking noise or was that some rubble? No. No that was his ankle. And apparently he wasn't the only one to notice because just seconds before it gave out Alfred's arm was around his waist, one hand holding onto his own, and a broad shoulder tucked up into his under arm for support. Damn. There goes making it to the base on his own...and his ankle evidently.

"You should have told me it was hurting."

"It wasn't."

"Don't lie to me Arthur."

"I'm not lying you plonker."

"Pl...fine."

He struggled to pull his arm away from the American, trying futilely to gain some distance.

"Would you stop that? You heard that noise your ankle made right?"

He turned his head to the side, unwilling to recognise that yes-

"Don't be stupid."

The pulling away might not have been the smartest move had it actually been successful. Regardless, he did not enjoy being called stupid.

"Pardon?"

"Don't. Be. Stupid. You may be strong, but you're just not _that_strong."

"I don't know what you're suggesting, but I highly doubt its validity?"

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

The hand holding onto his own loosened significantly, and the blondes broad shoulder slipped away from beneath his own. The majority of his weight shifted from Alfreds muscles to his own. His knees and ankles began to shake almost immediately, the weight putting excessive strain on the already stressed areas. He let out a exclamation, and a pained shiver followed the path down his spine, clinging to his bones. He chomped down forcefully on his bottom lip, and Alfred caught him around the chest just as he swayed to the side.

"You're not superhuman."

He couldn't bring himself to even glare at the American, much less voice his thoughts on the details of the situation. Rather, he let himself slump against the others side, talking as much weight as possible off of his wavering muscles. No, he wasn't superhuman. However, the means by which the boy went about showing his statement through example was uncalled for, and frankly, quite painful.

* * *

_Terribly sorry that this is a short chapter, it just kind of happened to rap up that way._

_I hope that you all are enjoying the story. I'd love some feedback._

_~Castor_


	7. Chapter 7

It took infinitely too long for the two of them to actually get to the base, and longer still to actually get into the base. Despite the fact that they should have been the first two people in a place with military protection, the guards seemed very wary of them. Not terribly wrongly as it was war, and they had just narrowly escaped death by blitzkrieg raid, however, it was very inconvenient to remain half hanging off another man while waiting outside of a protective bunker. Not to mention the humiliation associated with not being able to stand on his own in front of his citizens.

By the time they were accepted into the base the entire feel of the place had shifted noticeably. Taking in the fact that the two men standing in front of them were, in fact, quite important people, had stunted the mood, shifting the atmosphere to something a bit looser yet more stale. Granted, they didn't disclose select information about themselves and their positions.

Two men shuffled around in front of them before taking off in the direction of a narrow hallway. To be honest, all of the hallways down in the bunker were fairly narrow, and filled with heavy air. The distinct musty smell of something that had been closed off was clearly prominent throughout the space, but anything was welcome next to the carnage above ground.

They moved through a labyrinth of hallways, some filled with civilians, others void of anything but concrete. One of the men branched off ahead of them, leaving the two with a single guide who seemed quite uncomfortable escorting them. They didn't talk, and they hardly even looked around, maintaining an air of practiced military professionalism.

Arthur shifted a bit, trying to take some of his own weight back. Alfred allowed him some leeway, loosening his grip enough for Arthur to plant each foot firmly with each step. Yes, it hurt, but his muscles were getting sore from tight grip and pulling strains. The area where the larger blondes hand had been gripping was sore, uncomfortable as Alfred's hand slid over the spot unevenly with each step.

If he had the strength to push the boy away he would. It was starting to get a little claustrophobic for him, ironic due to their whereabouts. He could really only take so much physical contact before he felt smothered. It's not that he didn't appreciate the help, exactly. More that, despite the fact that he was not in the best shape, he had never been all too keen on the prospects of physical contact. Or rather, this much physical contact.

Most likely because of his "upbringing" he was getting the itch to push the blond away, and walk skimmed up against the wall, or perhaps, bulleting forward behind the young soldier to get to the room as quickly as possible. But no, not only was he incapable of actually taking all of his own weight, the labyrinth of tunnels also made what should have been a short walk to a room of officials, the most painstaking journey imaginable. And he was generally quite a patient individual.

He sealed his lips shut as they finally approached a large metal door, reinforced steel by the looks of it. The soldier shifted on his feet, like he wasn't quite sure what to do now that they had finally arrived. However, Alfred, ever the hero, stepped up and knocked loudly on the thick surface. He looked up, willing the soldier to make eye contact with him so that he would have to test his voice quite yet.

Shaky brown connected with his own green, and he could tell that the poor lad was fighting to keep steady in front of him. He gave his head a short flick to the side, letting the boy know that they could take care of themselves now, and that he could return to his station. He doesn't think that he's ever seen a soldier walk quite that gracefully and purposefully, quite that fast. Though, he was fairly proud. The boy's training really showed, despite the fact that he looked about ready to soil himself. Probably still a bit green, he figured. So, that was impressive.

He would allow himself a bit of narcissism. Not that it would really matter at this time, it would most likely be the highlight of his week, probably even his month...just appreciating the training of his soldiers. Nothing wrong with a bit of admiration. Speaking of, that door is really quite nice. That door that should really be opening because he can't stay standing on his own for much longer, and _get back here Alfred damnit! _

His knees were beginning to shake once again, lending him an uneven stance. The world tilting slightly with his struggle to keep from falling. A struggle that led to the unfortunate locking of his knees, making the blood flow stunt and his vision start to blur. And damn it, because now he had to represent himself in a professional and clean cut way, and here he was about to pass out because he couldn't keep his knees from locking.

He had to hold his tongue when the door swung open, a rush of relief shooting through his system. He wasted absolutely no time in squeezing into the room, trained eyes easily seeking out the most sturdy surface to support himself with. Though resting on the cool metal cabinetry was not ideal, it was certainly far more ideal than blacking out, regardless of the lack of people to witness.

He noted that, yes, Alfred had already seen him at his very weakest, more than he would have ever liked for anyone to have ever seen him, but he did have some levels of self worth. Self worth, pride, bravery, he'd like to think of the traits as positive synonyms. And he needed some positive synonyms, especially with the skeptical eyes trained on him now.

"Arthur Kirkland I presume?"

He straightened his back, letting out a pained puff of air, too low to be noticeable. "You presume correctly."

"It's an honour to meet you sir, why don't you take a seat."

"I'm fine thank you."

"Really, I must insist."

* * *

_Sorry for the long wait on this chapter, but here it is._

_Hope you enjoy!_

_~Castor_


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